by KaLyn Cooper
Earlier they had seen a herd of wild goats, a couple of sheep, and even a deer as they made their way from the road through the heavily wooded national park for the house. Many domesticated animals had been killed during the back-to-back hurricanes, or had starved to death when their owners had been evacuated. Those left on their own had created wild herds that were quickly becoming a problem, especially the pigs.
The night was black as thick clouds gathered overhead as a prelude to the approaching hurricane, blocking any light from stars or the moon. The perfect night for a raid, especially when it started to drizzle. Most guards didn’t like to get wet so they would often move inside and take turns walking the perimeter. Even with Rayne’s limited tracking skills, she could see that several boot-clad men had practically worn a path around the house and to certain lookout points.
But no one entered or exited while they had been watching for the past two hours as they slowly crept in. Only twenty feet from the basement door, they were on hold, waiting for Dex’s command to enter.
Nope. This definitely didn’t feel right. For the first time in many years, Rayne was thankful for her bulletproof vest, helmet, and additional weapons.
“On my count,” Dex announced.
A river of sweat rolled down Rayne’s spine and another between her breasts. It had been too long since she’d practiced breaching in full gear, but heat radiated up from the ground cooking the moisture falling from the sky. Humidity was a bitch.
“Going in on three.”
She brought her semi-automatic rifle to her shoulder and continually scanned their six. Liam, the Navy SEAL from the State Department, would bust down the door and be followed in by Robert Taylor, the DOJ special forces guy.
As they cleared each section, Rayne and Will Edge, one of the DOJ medics, would move deeper into the house and then either assist in the fight or deal with the injured.
“One…two…three.”
Ten minutes later, the eight members of the breaching team stood in the living room and stared at the very familiar mirror.
The house was empty.
Chapter Eight
They’d been moved and this was a much better place, Callie had immediately decided.
A few hours before, she had been in the bathroom when she’d overheard the conversation between Jaja and a man speaking some kind of weird dialect of English. She caught a few French words thrown in with weirdly accented English in an unusual cadence. She’d noticed that some of the locals had spoken the same way.
When the men first started talking, she’d quickly finished washing her hands and turned toward the door, but Ms. Rogers put her index finger to her lips and signaled for her to go back in. Obviously, their teacher wanted to hear the entire conversation as she leaned against the hall outside the bathroom door.
Turning on the water at the sink, Callie had sneaked back to the doorjamb, hiding, so she could hear too. The new man told Jaja that U.S. Navy helicopters had landed on the baseball fields and dropped off many men in uniform. They were all carrying guns and now helping the local police go door-to-door. Then they had brought more men back wearing all kinds of uniforms, with lots more guns. Now the helicopters were parked on the baseball field.
The man in the dark blue slacks and matching shirt wearing a baseball cap embroidered with Fix It Man had pointed to the other girls leaning against the wall in the living room. Callie didn’t have any problem understanding the man with dreadlocks past his shoulders when he all but yelled, “You go now. I be helping.”
Jaja immediately began to organize their departure.
When Ms. Rogers signaled, Callie left the bathroom. As she walked by the leader, he shoved her to one side. “You. Stand there. Don’t move.”
He turned his attention to Ms. Rogers. “Bring me Congressman John Martin’s daughter.”
Her teacher’s eyes went wide before she agreed. “May Callie return to the group?”
Yes. Please. Please let me go back and be with my friends.
Although none of them had been hurt, yet, Callie knew this was a very dangerous man. She didn’t like being singled out.
“No.” Jaja just snapped. “She has to leave.” His tone completely changed to one of anger and he raised his voice. “Bring me John Martin’s daughter. Now.”
Ms. Rogers quickly headed for Elianna, and the leader called out orders in that other language he used with the guards. The two men started yanking girls off the floor and shoving them toward her.
They brought Mrs. Thompson and Mrs. Garcia over to stand with her. Callie breathed a sigh of relief. At least if they were being separated there would be some adults with her group. She’d wait until they were alone before telling the others what she’d heard about the Navy helicopters and men with guns. It sounded as though there was a rescue in the works.
Thank God.
Although Callie had quit believing in the one and only, all knowing, superior deity, as she watched her mother die inch by inch from a cruel disease called cancer, she was willing to thank whoever, whatever, for sending help.
She wouldn’t pray to him, though. She’d done more than her share of begging the unseen God that she had been taught since birth watched over them. Her prayers to make her mother better had gone unanswered. Her prayers to save her mother’s life had been ignored.
Instead of loving her, taking care of her as her catechism instructors had promised, the omnipotent being had disregarded her pleas. Her father, too absorbed in his own grief, had thrown himself into his work and ignored her, too. Then, God the all-powerful being, had rewarded her for being such a good daughter during her mother’s illness by sending her the Step Momster.
No. He would never receive another prayer from her.
Suddenly Callie remembered something her mother said the day she died. “I’ll be watching over you from heaven, my sweet child.” With frail hands, barely more than skin over bone, her mother had pulled Callie down to her and kissed her on the cheek. “I will always love you.”
“I love you too, Mom.” Their tears mixed as they’d cried, cheek to cheek.
Callie looked up toward the ceiling and mouthed, Thank you, Mom. Help them find us fast.
As the chosen girls were herded out the door, Callie stood frozen in place. Her gaze scanned the girls and stopped when her eyes met Ms. Rogers. Her teacher mouthed, It’s okay. We’ll be there soon. Callie gave her teacher a small smile before her gaze fell on Angelique. Given all the problems that woman had caused, Callie wondered if they would bother to bring her stepmother with them. Part of her hoped that they wouldn’t.
She was going to hell for that thought, for sure. She might not believe in God, but the devil, he was real. So was heaven and hell.
Jaja grabbed the new man’s arm and asked in English. “You said your cousin was helping to guard the helicopters. Do you think he would disable them for us?”
The whites of the man’s eyes grew huge. “No. Not him. Not any of the men there. They all served in the military. Most were in the Navy. They would beat me up for even asking. Besides, some of the pilots and crew have stayed with the helicopters. No one gets near them.”
Jaja nodded. “Take these infidels and come back for the rest.” He grabbed Elianna’s chin. “I need you to talk to your father, and the President.” He grinned. “Maybe, this one, we will show to the world.”
Dreds, as Callie decided to call the new man, led the way to a white service truck with a logo matching the one on his hat. Acne Face and Grunt followed a few feet behind them, quickly lighting cigarettes the moment they were out of the house. Mrs. Garcia had her arm around Zoe right in front of Callie as they were marched to the truck that looked like a beat-up, rusting version of the brown UPS vans that delivered the packages of food to her house. The bumper was high, and she had to stretch getting in.
“No seats. You sit on the floor,” Dreds ordered from the front of the truck.
Callie quickly found Mrs. Thompson and Charlotte sitting near Mrs. G
arcia and Zoe. She planted herself next to them and crossed her legs, making room for everyone on this first load. Grunt and Acne Face seemed to have an argument just before Grunt stepped into the back with them and Acne Face closed the doors behind him. As the truck pulled out, the tools and equipment rattled and clinked, drowning out the noisy engine. With no interior lights, they were instantly dropped into the darkness.
Good. This was her chance. Callie grabbed the two adults and pulled them close, hoping they could hear her. “They are moving us because the Navy sent helicopters and lots of soldiers to rescue us.” Callie glanced between the two mothers hoping they had clearly heard because she didn’t want to have to keep repeating herself, afraid she might get caught by Grunt.
“Callie, where did you hear such a thing?” Mrs. Thompson’s tone was cross, as though Callie had lied.
“When I was in the bathroom and the new guy showed up.” At the confused faces she continued to explain. “Ms. Rogers wanted to keep listening, so she had me run the water. I sneaked to the doorway and listened too.” She pointed toward the front of the truck. “He said that three helicopters landed twice with soldiers. The first bunch went house to house with the local police looking for us. When the second group came, they left the helicopters at the ball field.”
“We passed a baseball complex on the way here. It’s not that far away. Maybe a couple of miles.” Mrs. Garcia sounded excited.
“Maybe they sent in some Navy SEALs,” Mrs. Thompson added. “Carl has mentioned several times that if he ever got kidnapped, he’d want the Navy SEALs to rescue him because they are the best. He would know, too, since he’s on the Senate Armed Forces committee. I’m sure he’d send them to save us.”
The van slowed and took a very sharp left, knocking Callie into the mothers. Several girls bonked heads, but Brynn got slammed into one of the tool chests and a big wrench fell on her arm. She yelped in pain and started crying. The two older women quickly helped all the girls back to a sitting position.
Callie went to her best friend to try to calm her down while Mrs. Thompson took a look at her arm. “I don’t think it’s broken, but maybe when we get to this next house, we can get some ice on it.”
The bumpy road was similar to the driveway of the house they just left. Callie was more concerned about her teacher than her stepmother, Cruella De Vil. “What are we going to do without Ms. Rogers?”
Mrs. Garcia threw her free arm around Callie. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Thompson and I are with you. I’m pretty sure this guy is just going to go back and get the rest of our group.” She glanced up at Grunt. “We won’t let anything happen to any of you girls.” With her promise, came a tight hug.
It was nice to have a mom hug her again, even though it wasn’t her own mother. What was even nicer, was knowing that somebody cared about her.
As soon as the back doors opened, Mrs. Thompson immediately asked Dreds if there was ice. The handyman quickly ushered Brynn and Mrs. Thompson into the house. Callie tried to keep up but in the dim light of evening, she couldn’t see where they had turned.
Stepping into a living room, she looked around, excited to find that this one had furniture. Her butt had started hurting in that other place. As soon as Grunt and Acne Face came into the room, they signaled for the girls to sit on the couches and chairs. Since there wasn’t enough room, Zoe sat on her mom’s lap in a big chair.
Callie could hear Mrs. Thompson and Dreds carrying on an intense conversation. A few minutes later, they emerged through a doorway onto the left.
“This house has food.” Mrs. Thompson clarified, “And this wonderful man has agreed to allow me to cook for everyone. Don’t get too excited, but I think I found enough pasta for everybody.” She bent down and whispered something to Brynn who came over and sat beside Callie. Her friend had a bag of frozen corn resting on her forearm.
“Mum, you need to go.” Dreds pointed toward the door. “The others are waiting.”
“Would you explain to Mr. Jaja that you allowed me to cook food for everyone?” Mrs. Thompson stared at him. “I don’t want to get in trouble for feeding the girls or the guards.”
“No problem,” Dreds reassured her. “You have to eat. We cannot starve you. You’re a mum. Mums know how to cook. You have food readily back, yes?”
“I’ll try, but it might take a while for the water to boil,” Mrs. Thompson explained.
“You go cook. I go to the others.” When Dreds smiled, he flashed a gold tooth. Callie thought only rap stars had gold teeth.
By the time Dreds returned with the other girls, Ms. Rogers, and, darn it all, they’d brought the b with an itch, Mrs. Thompson announced the food was ready. She’d fried some vegetables and meat in butter which made a really decent sauce. As hungry as Callie was, though, anything would have tasted wonderful.
The food even seemed to make Mr. Jaja happy. He pointed to all the girls on the couch. “Go into the bedrooms and bring the mattresses into this room,” he ordered. “Mrs. Thompson, take two girls and go clean the kitchen. Everything has to be put back exactly where you found it.”
Callie dashed for Elianna, grabbing her hand and pulling her down the hallway. “Are you okay? You’re really quiet. Did they make you say anything bad?” She hesitated. “Did they do anything bad to you to make you say what they wanted?”
“No.” Elianna shook her head as she moved to the opposite side of the bed. “Nothing bad. I just didn’t want to have to say those words.”
The girls yanked and shoved until the queen size mattress was upended. “Did he tell the President what he wanted? Did he say what he wanted them to do so they would let us go?”
Callie got in front of the mattress and pulled while Eliana pushed from behind. “He wants a bunch of people let out of jail, not just in the United States, somewhere in Africa, too.”
That didn’t make any sense to Callie. The United States couldn’t make some other country release prisoners. While the lookers were blocking the door, Callie quickly told her friend what she had overheard.
Elianna grabbed her in a hug. “We’re going to get rescued.”
“I hope so too.” Callie whispered back.
With everyone working on it, the living room floor quickly became one huge bed. It had to be rearranged twice so Acne Face and Grunt could pace back and forth and keep an eye on them. Once Mr. Jaja was satisfied with the arrangement, he allowed each of the mothers to take the girls one at a time to use the three bathrooms in the house. They still weren’t allowed to shower, but they were permitted to wash up a little using paper towels they found in the kitchen and a storage room.
Oh, what Callie wouldn’t give for a shower. And a toothbrush. With any luck, they would be rescued soon.
When she and Mrs. Thompson returned from the bathroom in the master bedroom, Mr. Jaja ordered them to collect sheets and comforters from all the rooms. It took several trips under the close supervision of Grunt but by the time they brought the last pillows to the living room, the other girls had already made up the beds.
With a forced smile, Ms. Rogers announced, “This is like a big huge slumber party.” She quickly added, “Without the pillow fights.”
“But it’s so early,” Sophia complained.
“We can’t turn on any lights and it’ll be dark in just a few minutes,” Mrs. Garcia explained. “We need you to be in bed now.”
Even though it hadn’t even turned dark outside, Mr. Jaja ordered, “Sleep. Now.”
Callie didn’t think she could sleep, especially not with the guards’ boots thunking on the wooden floor as they paced back and forth. She crawled onto a king size mattress with Brynn on one side of her and Charlotte on the other.
Before she laid down, she glanced over into the corner where Angelique remained tied and gagged. Luna had told Callie that her stepmother had created another scene while they were loaded into the van. Hopefully Mr. Jaja didn’t know that she and Angelique were related by marriage.
“Good night girls,” Mrs. Tho
mpson whispered from the far side of Charlotte.
Callie scooched under the covers and rolled over onto her side. She’d try to sleep, but that seemed impossible.
Chapter Nine
“Fuck!” Dex wanted to shout but hissed quietly through clenched teeth as he paced down the beach.
The hostages had been there, and they’d missed them. Damn it!
He needed to move beyond anger and work the problem.
They had been in the correct house, that he was sure. Had someone warned them? Or was Jaja just being careful? It wasn’t unusual for someone on the run to move from house to house, often in the middle of the night.
How are they able to move fourteen hostages without being seen? And where are they now? It was too fucking bad that the infrared on the satellites couldn’t penetrate the thickening cloud cover.
Oh, yeah, that was another thing Dex had to worry about, Victor had been designated as a category one hurricane. Almost every anticipated path indicated that it would increase in strength and was headed close enough to the island to be affected.
What else could go wrong?
Dex slumped down onto the warm white sand, leaning against a thick palm tree, and stared blindly at the choppy sea. In his peripheral vision he saw something move. Instinctively, he grabbed his gun.
Before pulling it up to his line of sight, he remembered that he was in the midst of a high-end resort. Although he hadn’t seen anyone other than those associated with the mission, he was sure there had to be tourists staying there as well. Hidden in the shadows, still wearing dark camouflage, Dex sat quietly.
Noting the small body, slumped shoulders, and the way he dragged his feet, Dex didn’t feel threatened in the least. He could overpower this guy with no problem. The person would take a few steps, kick the sand, sigh heavily, then drop their shoulders again and repeat the process. Obviously, the person was upset.
